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"And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much

mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past."

It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled.

A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts

turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of

human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual

salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to

something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether

the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond

my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat

frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an

abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his

hand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he cried

impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he would

always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever

have accepted such a situation.